A Very Long Time Indeed
by thechroniclerofthehouse
Summary: it's been a long time since the five children left the factory, and much has changed since then. one-shot. may consider continuing it if enough reviews come through.
1. Chapter 1

Veruca Salt looked up from the toilet bowl.

She looked noticeably different from the seductive teenager form she often presented to the world. Limp brown hair hung over a face that, although breathtakingly pretty, was contorted in such an uncomfortable position that she didn't look too lovely.

Then she looked back down and vomited again, hands clenched tight against the taut skin of her distended belly. Veruca finally heaved herself to her hopelessly swollen ankles and attempted to wash her hands with a large stomach blocking her way. She was even bigger than Augustus Gloop now.

Needless to say, her parents' attitude to her had changed after leaving the factory. Her tantrums didn't get anything done anymore. Once she got home, they packed her off to some dirty school in the middle of London, to go to the same school as those tawdry _peasants_, to _live_- I say, _live_- with her aunt, who owned a tiny house in that great black city.

One night, after being laughed at by practically the entire school for throwing a tantrum, Veruca glared at herself in the mirror, ripped up her fur pelt and screamed, "If they want rubbish, it'll be rubbish they'll get!"

Veruca then sold some of her worldly possessions (she cried a little when the ponies went) and used the money to buy alcohol and drugs on the black market. Through passing them to her classmates and taking them herself, she managed to obtain an even higher standing in the eyes of the press, and an even worse standing in the eyes of her parents. She became belligerent and rebellious.

Her parents confiscated her money and her alcohol and her drugs. She set up a gambling den in the next boarding school she was sent to by stealing a pack of cards from the headmaster. After that, she was sent to another boarding school, where she vandalized the walls. Another boarding school, one after the other.

Until puberty struck. Suddenly, Veruca had a new weapon to use in her campaign against her parents: her god-given talents. She dolled herself up to the point where even nerds who knew they were geeks and were proud of it would realize that they could still have an erection when she walked past. Boys drooled over her. Girls became catty at her presence.

And what did she have to show for all her effort? Veruca smiled cynically to herself as she slumped into her bed, back aching, and practically inhaled the Wonka candy bars that she'd been craving. Thank goodness her parents had made a stockpile of her weekly deliveries of chocolate.

She felt horrible. Veruca had spent so much time trying to look pretty, and yet the apparition that faced her in the mirror was a _whale_, with swollen ankles, lank brown hair, morning sickness, and a mouth stained with chocolate from her midnight treks down to the kitchen. Her eyes were puffy. And in answer to the question as to what she had to show, well, she got to go home, and she got clothes, but they were maternity wear. To cater to her new form, in which she was pregnant. With _twins_.

Augustus Gloop had never felt better.

The German teenage heartthrob walked through the hallways of his school as girls swooned over him and boys glowered from their lockers. They still couldn't comprehend how they could have had their crushes, their girlfriends stolen from them by a boy who, until a few years ago, was an obese, chocolate-coated boy.

It was, Augustus reflected, impossibly, possible to get tired of chocolate. At first it had been as if his dream had come true. He'd been like King Midas; everything he touched became coated with chocolate. But, first of all, he had realized, after about half a year of being covered in chocolate, that everything he touched also became sticky. Teachers were beginning to get angry at him. And then there was the teasing. Relentless, it was. And his already poor performance in PE was becoming hard to maintain.

So he'd discovered two things, after the chocolate finally came off after a year from the Factory: 1. He was tired of sitting around and eating junk food. 2. Junk food made him hopelessly unhealthy, and it was high time he got rid of the fat.

Augustus got to work immediately. His chocolate supply was left in the basement. His parents began to stop frowning at him for not getting up and moving around. They, too, were tired of chocolate. He began to move around more. At night, for fear of being mocked, he'd get up and run around until his knees felt numb, which at the beginning, took around four minutes.

But it worked eventually. And as it turned out, once he got all the fat out of his system, he was actually somewhat handsome. He developed a knack for running and got on to the school's track and field team. Augustus became more altruistic, too, somehow. One fine day, sometime in December, he brought his chocolate supply to school and dumped it in the middle of the parade square. "Merry Christmas!" He called, as his schoolmates began rushing towards the stack, followed, inexplicably, by his teachers.

So, all in all, he'd never felt better.

It _was_ strange, though. He knew what'd happened with Charlie, that poor kid whom he'd been beastly to at the start. But he hadn't heard a word from Mike Teavee, or that blue girl. He'd been reading speculation about the rubbish girl in the newspapers. Apparently she'd been taken back to her mansion in Britain. But he mostly wanted to hear from the other boys. Especially Mike. Charlie he had no intention of contacting.

His mother thought he was a little too friendly with the girls, though. But she was clearly not seeing things his way.

Michael Teavee lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, which was covered with equations and large drawings of his creations.

Acting on the song of the Oompa-Loompas, his parents had sold away all his video game cartridges and all his modern technology to his fans. It was strange that he even_ had_ fans, really. But anyway. Despite his threats and outbursts of homicidal violence, his parents didn't buy back his technology and instead got him a bookcase and filled it with non-fiction books.

Eventually, he cooled down, and so did his height. Mike filled out, eventually, though he was stuck at being tall and thin, practically seven feet tall. He took to reading books, and once he realized that they weren't as bad as they were supposed to be, he went at them with the same fervor as he'd gone at his video games.

Mike became a sort of a nerd, after he began reading. He retreated into his basement after finishing his homework, which he knew would get an A+ grade, and work on contraptions involving the Wonka bars that he received from the factory. His parents worried about him. Though Mike wore glasses, and edged through the halls, he still had admirers. And he retained his bad temper.

With his newfound knowledge of mechanics, chemistry and business, Mike had utilized normal household materials (his chocolate, the ice in the fridge, medicine from the pharmacist, wine and alcohol) to construct a myriad of materials that he then sold to his schoolmates: a new variation of cocaine, soft drinks mixed with pure alcohol, and chocolate guns coated with permafrost to prevent it from melting.

It was very interesting to talk about.

On the taffy puller, Mike had discovered a side to himself he didn't know existed. While Veruca was introducing chaos into her life and the lives of her schoolmates, Mike was a businessman. A peddler of vice, but a businessman nonetheless. Even his parents and the police had to admit, when they finally caught him, that he was a cunning and astute person. He'd obtained more than a million selling drugs, alcohol and guns to the children in his school and his neighborhood.

The tantrums and threats were all a ruse. He, too, had heard the Oompa-Loompas' song. He decided, _To Hell with video games! I shall be richer than that idiot someday._

Mike roused himself. The one thing that excited him about being placed under house arrest was that his parents had no choice but to get him a very nice laptop. On this he could surf the web and practice his non-existent hacking skills. He could learn.

Violet Beauregarde was eating chocolate.

When she returned from the factory, her mother lost all confidence in her. She was teased at school for having been a blueberry. It became her nickname, and her nightmare. The blue skin and blue hair stuck with her for more than a year more. And during that time, she became chronically depressed and turned the only way she could think of.

Her weekly deliveries of Wonka chocolate.

How Augustus would laugh if he could see her now! How they all would laugh! Violet gorged herself on the chocolate bars before, after and during lesson. She ate all the time, trying to regain her confidence, to fill herself up with tasty confidence. It didn't work, to say the least.

Once Violet realized nothing was happening, her skin had been flexible so long the fat had filled it up. Her skin had returned to normal, though. She attempted exercise, but all she got was that her many chins decreased to two chins, and her arms became covered with a slightly thinner layer of fat. Everything else stayed the same.

Her mother urged her to exercise. It was the only thing she said to her. The taunts didn't stop. It was a vicious cycle. Violet knew it, but she was powerless to stop it. The more they laughed, the more depressed she became, and the more food she ate.

She finished her homework. At least her mother was content with her daughter being better mentally.

Charlie Bucket strode confidently through the corridor leading to Willy's office, his Irish girlfriend of two years, Saoirse, on his arm. He gazed lovingly at her as they walked on. They kissed again. The Oompa-Loompas cheered and wolf-whistled.

"Ah, Charlie! And Saoirse!" Willy Wonka stood up as they entered his office, and motioned for them to sit down. "You've been innovating even better than I thought you would, Charlie! Your 'modernizing' technique had been a great help to the Wonka's Chocolate brand. Your management of the offices across the world has been commendable."

Wonka leaned across the table, eyes sparkling as they normally did, only brighter. "That's why I'm sending you and Saoirse to Manhattan to build a new factory!" Charlie was, to say the least, surprised. "Mr. Donald Trump is going to be building the basic structure for us, in exchange for us allowing his grandchildren to send in suggestions on how to improve the chocolate. And, of course, a lifetime's supply of chocolate. He says he likes your attitude. Thinks Bill Zanker will want you in his new book."

Charlie rolled his eyes. Typical. Saoirse squeezed his hand, and he shook himself out of his reverie and smiled at her. She'd been a great help supporting him through the deaths of his four grandparents. His parents were on, as far as they could see, an eternal round-the-world trip, in Venice, at the moment. The Oompa-Loompas respected him. Life was good.

Though not so good for his fellow Ticket winners. Time Magazine had done a piece on the lives of the Ticket winners a year ago, five years after the event of the Chocolate Factory. Ah, well. At least Augustus was doing well. Charlie felt very bad over what had happened with Violet.

What was done was done, though, and Charlie couldn't change that. To review what had happened, however, his fellow Ticket Winners were quite famous. Or infamous, depending on how one looked at them.

Augustus looked very handsome now. Since Time had done the article on him, hundreds of weight-loss companies were vying for his attention. Violet, also, was in Mensa. Mentally, she was a champion. Charlie sorely hoped that pleased her mother. She was being taken seriously by Nobel-prize winners. That was cause for compliment. But she was hideously unhealthy. And fat.

Mike, though, was a criminal. One couldn't deny that he was smart, though. Not smart, no. More like he was cunning. Wonka, however, even Wonka admitted that he hadn't thought of making a chocolate gun. The boy was innovative. He looked very much like a mad scientist, Charlie thought. Gaunt and scarecrow-like, with a high forehead and spindly fingers and glasses. Veruca was one of those rich celebrities who got in trouble and had millions of boyfriends. Charlie had nothing more to say on the subject of Veruca. But she was pretty. Very pretty. Wonka's sources said she was pregnant. Dear Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn Saoirse. _Damn_ her."

Charlie Bucket sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying his best to stay calm and failing miserably. At base, he was, after all, only twenty.

Mr. Willy Wonka entered the room quietly, as quietly as he could, but Charlie still heard him and sat up, blinking away the tears and trying his best to look like he was doing some work. The mug of chocolate on the upper left corner of his desk was untouched. Heck, his computer wasn't even on!

"Hey, Willy. What're you doing here?"

Mr. Wonka remained silent, but a soft exhalation that sounded suspiciously like a sigh left a corner of his mouth. Then the Amazing Chocolatier leaned forward, propping his elbows on Charlie's table, and said:

"How would you like to see the four children again?"

Charlie scrunched up his face. He was used to Willy saying random things at random times, but honestly? He couldn't say that he had any intention of meeting up with them. They were repulsive- at least, that was how he remembered them. Evidently they had changed, but not much. Most likely, only Augustus. And he was the most likeable of the four!

"No, I can't say I'd like to…"

He trailed off, looking into Willy's sparkling eyes. Charlie had a sudden epiphany; he'd forgotten something, and now-

"One of Wonka's Patented Aphorisms, Charlie: _Why not?_"

And Charlie smiled.

Willy Wonka smiled too, for he knew that persuading Charlie devote his mind to just being nice to four children who most likely didn't deserve it was better than standing there and watching Charlie wallow in self-pity for having a bitchy girlfriend who dumped him after five years.

So he spun around. "Time to make a few phone calls, then!"

-hopefully it will work this time-

"WHAT?"

Mrs. Gloop's exclamation rang out through the whole neighbourhood in their quiet corner of Dusseldorf.

"But, I assure you, Mrs. Gloop, Mr. Teavee, Mr. Salt, Mrs. Beauregarde-" Charlie continued, looking a little cautious now, "-I do believe it would be good and conducive for a change, yes? And in any case, as a sort of repayment for Mr. Wonka's beastly behaviour? For, say, whatever remaining time that's left in Ms. Salt's… condition?"

Mr. Salt's face was white. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

"How the _devil_ did you know that, boy?"

Charlie shrugged.

"I have my sources."

"Your filthy Oompa-Loompas, you mean!" Mrs. Beauregarde spat, face red. "They manhandled my daughter- gave her a horrible self-esteem problem- now look at what a sorry state you've landed her in- AND YOU STILL DARE SUGGEST-"

"Look, Mrs. Beauregarde," Mr. Teavee said, "given the circumstances, it is quite natural for you to be unhappy, but look, we sued Wonka Chocolate and lost a great deal of money. Could it be, then, that it's time to let bygones-"

"Well, from what I hear, I do think my Augustus is comparatively better," Mrs. Gloop said, a little bit of perceived control (and a little bit of superiority) returning to her mind, "and so, as a matter of fact, to give him a break, I suppose, I'll let him go, yes? He's a big boy- he'll know how to take care of himself."

Strangely, it was Mrs. Gloop's serene gesture of consent that calmed down Mrs. Beauregarde and Mr. Salt.

"Very well then, boy," Mr. Salt said, somewhat forbiddingly, "but if anything happens to our children- and I believe I speak for all of us-"

"-we will _end_ you." Mr. Teavee finished the sentence. Now even Charlie shivered at that, if only a little bit. It was all the more terrifying to see someone who was usually something of a wimp act- well, like that.

-please work horizontal line-

Veruca Salt did her best to stalk from her parents' mansion, across the perfect lawn, and towards the Wonka van waiting for her.

Granted, it was _not_ easy at all, not when she was so _heavy_ her legs- they were slender, and she was proud of that fact, but they weren't helping now- struggled to support her weight, and also when she had to drag two pieces of luggage behind her.

"They ought to have at least given me a joint as a good-bye present," she grumbled under her breath. The boot of the van was already open. Veruca took a deep breath and prepared to lift, when-

"Hello, Veruca. I'll do that."

Charlie Bucket. Well. _He_ was a gentleman, at least. Not that she deserved one, as she discreetly admired the way his muscles flexed under that suit.

She sat down on her chair, a barely audible moan of contentment erupting from her lips as the door closed and the van sped off. Oh, God- her ankles, her back- the sudden disappearance of her aches and pains could only be described as orgasmic.

"Hey, Bucket. Who's your driver- AAAHH-"

Oh. _That_ answered her question. An Oompa-Loompa. Dear God.

"Please, Veruca, don't panic. Here. Have a Wonka bar-" Charlie withdrew his hand faster than he preferred. Mr. Wonka's words echoed in his head. _Never underestimate the appetite of a pregnant woman, Charlie,_ he'd said, when they went to visit a cousin of his. Now he understood.

Charlie shook his head, as he held out another bar and watched as it disappeared into Veruca's maw. _Now_ he understood.

Augustus Gloop stepped out from his flight, feeling groggy. He stumbled off the plane and towards the luggage belt, where he grabbed his luggage and got a hot cup of coffee. He was winked at by some hot British gals, who proceeded to have a nice chat with him, and he supposed that did play some sort of a part in waking him up.

Bucket had said that he'd have to wait an hour or so for Mike and Violet to arrive from America- LAX, he thought it was. He took another sip of coffee.

"Some hot chocolate, please-"

And then there were footsteps approaching him and suddenly there was a man, about his age, sitting opposite him, drinking from a cup of hot chocolate. Clearly American, though why he was in Britain Augustus had no idea. What _did_ matter, though, was the fact that he was sitting opposite him. Augustus was about to stand up and move away, when he noticed how familiar the man was. Also, there was a very prominent, very familiar recurring motif on his suit- a W.

"Hello, Augustus."

"CHARLIE! It's been a while."

Charlie had been prepared for all eventualities, from happiness to excitement to anger, but he hadn't prepared for possibility that Augustus would wrap him in a very Russian bear hug, and proceed to crack a few of his ribs. He wasn't even sure if it would've helped, anyways.

"Au-*kaff*-gustus! Yes, it's been an awful long while. I see you've lost weight. God, your hug is positively Russian. Got some Siberian ancestry or some such?"

"Ha, as a matter of fact yes. My grandmother, she came from Russia. They've got good chocolate there. So- Charlie. How've you been doing?"

"Yeah, well, it's been pretty all right so far. Well, you know, there _was_ this bit when the elevator launched my family into space- entirely by accident, you understand, but this stuff happens-"

They talked for exactly one hour.

Mike Teavee closed his computer and leaned back, satisfied.

_That_ explained it- the tight-lipped demeanor of his family regarding the trip. Thank goodness he was able to hack into his father's Skype- really, he ought to have set his password to something less easy to find than _my-son-is-a-criminal-suck-on-that-bitches_. Yes, he knew. God, it was really funny how his father was really a complete badass in private.

And then, a little bit more self-taught lessons on hacking, and he'd realized that Violet Beauregarde was also on the trip with him. Judging from her photograph, a couple years after the Incident, she'd gotten fat. Ah, well. But at least the blue was gone. Now she was just your average extremely overweight American. Better than being considered some sort of morbidly obese Mystique.

He considered the news about Wonka Chocolate. Apparently, Mr. Bucket had been quite the expansionist- built up an empire to rival, say, Lannister Limited or Tyrell Media Corporation. Now the Wonka name was quite firmly attached to other things than chocolate, though there _was_ that. And the new factory, in London, where he was headed. It was set to be a monument, apparently- tours inside once every two years or some such novelty, though they might make an exception for Queen Elizabeth's birthday or something- he really didn't care.

But this new factory wouldn't chiefly be concerned with candy- but with other things, manufactured goods, preservatives, all sorts of food. And though Mike thought chocolate was a waste of time, he had very different feeling about normal staples. _Now_ Wonka's imagination could be put to proper use.

He stepped out of the doors somewhat self-consciously. People were staring and muttering. Hopefully they didn't recognize him as the kid who'd built a home-grown weaponry and all-round vice empire completely from scratch, the only raw material being chocolate and ingenuity.

Though they probably did.

He saw a man dressed in a Joker-esque suit waving a FOR MR. MIKE TEAVEE AND MS. VIOLET BEAUREGARDE card. So garish, but then, that was Wonka for you. Then he looked closer. It was Bucket.

"Hello, Mike. Hello, Violet."

"Hey."

"It's been a while."

There was a brief, extremely awkward silence between them as they stared at one another, familiarizing themselves, then Charlie said, the cheerfulness wavering for a while, "Well, follow me!" and led them to a Wonka van. Driven, quite predictably, by an Oompa-Loompa.

Violet Beauregarde considered the sights as they whizzed past her window. None of them were talking; all too lost in their own private, extremely chaotic thoughts.

She hadn't been overseas in quite a long time, not for anything except gathering knowledge or using it in a competition. What she thought of as relaxation was sitting at home surfing the Internet, eating junk food while her mother sighed from the door. She'd made herself deaf to it.

Violet felt the gaping hole of ever-decreasing self-esteem and hunger widen in the inner pits of her substantial middle and remembered- _Damn!_- that she'd forgotten to bring chocolate. Never mind, though- she _was_ going to stay in the UK Factory, wasn't she?

Charlie Bucket's voice jolted her back to reality. She realized that she was filling up her extremely comfortable seat, and that some of her was seeping over to Augustus' side. He was trying not to stare, and she was trying not to care.

"-going to go and say hi to some very nice people. I'd like to trouble all of you to just stay in the van as I go out and give my condolences." Mike opened his mouth, and Charlie sighed. "If you must know, it's Eddard Stark, all right?"

They heard his voice as he departed, turning his jacket inside-out to reveal a blacker, more solemn version that he then slipped on. "And if you must go, shut up and don't invite any trouble!"

The four of them sat in silence as he disappeared inside. "Who do you think he's got inside?" Augustus queried.

"Who do you think?" Mike snarled. "_Rich _and_ influential _people who are way out of our league, who deserve to be toppled. No. Let's add another quality, do let's. _Young_. Like, huh, Theon Greyjoy and the eight Martells-"

"Whoa, Mike, calm down. Seriously, listening to you go on about that is, quite frankly, disturbing. Maybe you ought to join the Anonymous Brotherhood." Violet finally spoke, intervening if only for the sake of boredom.

The van was silent for a while. Then Veruca spoke.

"I need the bathroom."

Mike and Violet both rounded on her, snarling, "Oh, and who do you think _fucking_ cares-"

Then the door opened, revealing a rather fetching blonde British girl.

"Hello? Who're you? My name's Myrcella Baratheon-Lannister-"

**AAND THAT'S IT.**

**NOTE THAT I INCLUDED SOME CHARACTERS AND SOME CORPORATE ENTITIES FROM THE BLOOD AND GLORY ASOIAF RPG ON TUMBLR. I DON'T OWN THEM. I DON'T OWN ANY OF THIS!**

**FUCK ME AND MY LIFE.**

**BUT, ANYWAY, IF YOU'RE INTERESTED, HERE THE LINK IS: ** .com

**I REALLY OUGHT TO HAVE PLANNED THIS OUT MORE CAREFULLY. BUT, YOU KNOW, SHIT HAPPENS. BYE!**


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